3.5 .. the tower of sight
I have a daughter who comes by from time to time, thankfull and engaged with my wife and I with tales of her two teenage boys, our grandsons. They both surf up at Bruns and all is well .. meaning neither of them is a goofy-foot.
As it happened when my daughter left for points north the other day she unknowingly took my wife’s reading glasses with her .. and here is the little lady halfway through a Garry Disher novel.
No problem.
The Chemist is five minutes away.
His reading glass tower cabinet, the revolving type is right by the front door. 1.5 magnification specs at the top then slowly descending to the. 3.5 down below. Way down below.
This is where we live, the 3.5 species of bad vision and where the older and blinder amongst us grovel on our hands and knees, scrabbling for purchase and searching the bottom layers of the spectacle tower we so need and in the doing being found in the path of everyone entering and leaving the pharmacy, the younger, the fitter, the clearer-eyed, the imperiously endowed .. they shrink from us as we attempt to disengage the on-sale specs from their hooked attachments on the bottom level of the tower of sight.
We are the dispossessed, lepers, the unsighted …
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